Tête à Tête
by TantalumCobolt
Summary: AU: In which God and Gabriel get together ever Thursday over coffee to discuss life, the universe… and the Winchesters.
1. Pilot

**AN: G'day y'all!  
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**My muse has informed me that it has a head-cannon in which God and Gabriel meet weekly over coffee to talk about life, the universe and (of course) the Winchesters. It insists that I write a one-shot for every episode, which is rather demanding if you ask me! The muse has power though, so here is the first one-shot in what I hope will be a regularly updated series of them!  
**

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_Season 1, episode 1: Pilot_

Gabriel isn't surprised to see God already sitting at their usual table in the corner when he arrives at the café. No matter how early he arrives (and he'd once arrived almost three hours before their arranged meeting time), his Father always beats him. It has become a game, of sorts; one that the archangel is losing by many points.

God barely glances up from his newspaper when Gabriel gracefully (he's an angel of the Lord, for God's sake, everything he does is graceful) falls into the opposite chair. 'What news do you have, Gabriel?'

Gabriel's eyebrows draw together. 'I delivered one message for you over two thousand years ago and I'm suddenly your personal messenger…' he mutters.

His Father raises an amused eyebrow. 'I see you're still bitter about that.'

Gabriel gives his best overdramatic sigh. 'I pride myself on not holding grudges, but that is one thing I fear I shall never be able to let go.'

God's eyebrow climbs a little higher. 'Perhaps you could start on the path to forgiveness by sharing what news you've brought.'

The archangel cannot help the pointed glance at the newspaper his Father's eyes are still glued to, but he complies. 'The brothers have been reunited.'

'That's good,' God hums. 'It only took them a little over two years.'

Gabriel snaps his fingers and a caramel latte (with extra sweetener, of course) appears on the table in front of him. 'Worst two years of my life!' he exclaims. 'Do you know how depressing it was seeing those two act as though the other was dead? It was just pathetic, really.'

God ignores the complaints. 'And what of John Winchester?'

'Still hunting down that yellow-eyed bas- demon.' No matter how old he is, his Father still has the power to punish him as a child and Gabriel is not willing to spend any more years sitting in the "naughty corner". 'He thinks he's finally starting to have some luck – the poor fellow has no idea that the only reason he's coming close to finding his wife's killer is because Azazel wants him to.'

'Ah, yes.' God pauses to turn another page of his newspaper and Gabriel takes the opportunity to drink the last of his overly-sweet coffee. 'How are Azazel's plans for jump-starting the apocalypse coming along? Has he started breaking seals yet?'

Gabriel almost laughs. 'The demon is too busy playing with his food to even think about the seals! Did you know that he killed the younger brother's girlfriend just the other day? Frankly, I'm surprised it took him this long; he's been waiting for the opportunity from the moment his minion set the two of them up.'

His Father hums in agreement again. 'Yes, I had heard something about that… What was her name again? Jessica? She was a pretty little thing; a shame she had to die, really.'

The angel nods in agreement because, yes, it had been a bit of shame. In the grand scheme of things though… _The Winchester boys really have no idea what's coming for them_, he muses. _In a couple of years Sammy is going to wish his girlfriend's death was the worst thing to happen in his life._

'What about you, Gabriel?' God's voice pulls the archangel from his thoughts. 'How have you been?'

Gabriel snaps his fingers again and a bucket of M&M's replaces the empty coffee cup on the table. He grabs a handful, then pushes the bucket towards his Father before replying. 'Oh, you know…' And he has no doubt that God actually does. 'I've been quite busy as the Trickster; people to serve just desserts to and all that jazz.'

'And what about that goddess you've been seeing? Kali, was it?'

Gabriel shrugs. 'It wasn't working out.' He reaches for another handful of M&M's. 'How have you been, Father? Any of the Holy Posse found your hiding place yet?'

God chuckles and leans forward to get his own handful of m&m's. 'Not even you know where I've been hiding out, Gabriel, and I see you every week. I'm thinking of taking a holiday, though. A change of scenery would be nice.'

'I hear Australia is nice this time of year.' As the words leave his mouth, a travel book appears in Gabriel's hand (the one that isn't full of m&m's, that is). 'I checked out all the places in this book and I've marked some of the best pages.'

God takes the book when it is slid across the plastic tabletop towards him. 'The beaches do look lovely…' he murmurs. 'But I was hoping for something a little more… cold.'

Another travel book appears on the table. 'How about Denmark?' Gabriel suggests. 'The modern day Vikings can be very accommodating.'

The look God gives his youngest archangel can only be called fatherly reproach. 'They are the _Danish_, Gabriel, not "modern day Vikings". You really should be more considerate with some of the things you say…'

Gabriel waves a hand carelessly. 'Whatever you call the people who live there, Denmark could be a great place for you to take your little holiday.'

His Father watches him for a moment more – probably to determine whether or not Gabriel had actually listened to his advice. 'I will look into it, then.' He glances at the ornate wristwatch that Gabriel can just see peeking out from the cuff of his pale pink dress shirt. 'Now, I'm afraid I have to go; I believe that one of your brother's is heading this way soon. Perhaps it would be wise if you jump ship as well.'

There is no fatherly embrace, nor heartfelt goodbye; there is not even a last look at Gabriel before God leaves. One second he is sitting in the tastefully upholstered chair, checking the time, and the next he is gone; it is as simple as that.

Gabriel's gaze moves between the glass-paned door and the half-full bucket of M&M's that still sits in the centre of the table, debating whether he should head his Father's words and leave or stay. The multicoloured chocolate balls make the decision for him and he leans further back in his chair. He's got nowhere to go and no one to see; a date with his beloved M&M's sounds like the perfect plan.

**AN: I'd love to hear your thoughts; whether you loved it, hated it, or are now craving M&M's (which I definitely am!). If there is anything in particular anyone wants to see just mention it in a review and I'll see what the muse can come up with :)**

**Up next: Gabriel and God discuss the events of Wendigo, God's recent holiday in Denmark and the time-old debate of M&M's or skittles.**

**-TaCo**


	2. Wendigo

**AN: Hey there everyone! Here is chapter two of this little series. I'm going to apologise in advance for the ending - I swear it was not meant to turn out that way!**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**_This chapter: Gabriel and God discuss the events of Wendigo, God's recent holiday in Denmark and the time-old debate of M&M's or skittles..._**

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_Season 1, episode 2: Wendigo_

Gabriel mentally adds another point to God on his mental tally board when he walks into the café the next week and his Father is, once again, already waiting. The archangel decides to forgo his usual routine of conjuring some incredibly sweet drink and heads over to the counter to place an order for a large caramel latte (and the fact that the young woman taking orders is quite attractive has nothing to do with it, thank you very much!). In the few extra seconds it takes to cross the room Gabriel is aware of his Father's eyes tracking his movements and he makes a conscious effort to ignore the studying gaze.

When he finally drops into the chair across the table from his Father (latte in one hand, the barista's phone number in the other) God's eyes are once again fixated on his newspaper.

'Morning Da!' Gabriel chooses to go for an over-the-top, annoyingly cheerful disposition. 'How was the holiday?'

God reaches up to run his hand along the beginnings of a beard. 'As you said; the Danish are very accommodating. I did have one displeasing encounter, though. That fellow with the hammer… Thor?' He nods to himself. 'Yes, Thor. He and his latest girlfriend appeared at one of the restaurants I was eating at and I had to leave before I finished my entrée in case they were to spot me.'

The archangel rolls his eyes. 'You shouldn't have worried – that buffoon can't see past his own ego more than half the time.' He takes a sip of his latte from the cheery, yellow mug. 'Did you run into any of the Holy Posse?'

His Father shakes his head. 'No, heaven seems to be quite busy with the preparations for the apocalypse. Personally, I think they're getting a little ahead of themselves – the elder Winchester hasn't even made the deal yet – but if it means I don't have to avoid them quite as much I'm not going to complain.'

'Speaking of the Winchesters…' Gabriel snaps his fingers and a bag of Skittles appears in his hand. 'They were at Blackwater Ridge on the weekend. Dean found his father's journal in Jericho and they followed the coordinates he left them. Can you believe they actually thought he might be there?'

God shakes his head in amusement. 'You cannot blame them, Gabriel, when you found my message you immediately went to the place I mentioned in search of me.'

Gabriel shrugs, scooping a handful of Skittles into his mouth. 'Anyway, Tweedledee wanted to bail when he realised daddy dearest wasn't there, but Tweedledum insisted they help the girl find her brother – that decision probably had something to do with how hot she was.'

His Father turns a page of his newspaper, electing to ignore his angel's final comment. 'And is their father still in Lawrence?'

'Yep. He's been staying with the psychic; Missouri something-or-other.' The archangel pauses to debate between another sip of sickeningly sweet coffee or a handful of Skittles. The colourful candy wins and he almost moans in delight when the fruity sweetness hits his taste buds. 'You've _got_ to try these, Da.' He offers the packet to his Father. 'Who'd believe the rainbow could taste so damn good!?'

God frowns. 'I created the rainbow, and I do not believe it would fit in such small packaging.' But he reached out to select a Skittle anyway.

Gabriel watches in amusement as God chews and swallows the small treat, a thoughtful look on his face. 'Amazing, right?'

'They are delectable, yes, but I much prefer the M&M's.' His Father replied. 'Do you, perhaps, have any of those on you?'

'Oh, come on!' The archangel exclaims. 'M&M's are one of humanity's finest creations, I'll give you that, but Skittles are like an explosion of sweet, artificially fruity goodness!'

God shakes his head. 'No, M&M's are definitely the finer treat. The taste of their hard outer shell dissolving on the tongue, only to be replaced by the smooth chocolate from the inside is an unbeatable sensation.'

'But-' Gabriel pauses, because, really, that argument is next to impossible to counteract. His Father's lips curve into a triumphant smirk across the table and Gabriel is forced to take drastic measures. Without taking his eyes of his Father, he motions for the barista to come to their table.

The young woman gives him a coy smile when she reaches the table. 'What can I do for you, honey?' she asks (practically purrs, really).

Several different answers pass fleetingly through Gabriel's mind, but his Father is sitting across the table watching him expectantly so he forces his mind to focus on the matter at hand. 'Could you do me a favour, Hannah?' (And he remembered her name; brownie points to Gabriel!).

'Anything.' He absently wonders just how literal her answer is.

'I was hoping you'd be able to solve a little problem that my friend and I are having.' Gabriel gestures to God. 'He believes that M&M's are better than Skittles; I disagree.' His lips curve into a smile when he turns to the pretty young woman waiting beside him. 'Which do you prefer?'

Hannah almost giggles (really, what he'd said hadn't even been funny!) and twirls a strand of hair around her hair. 'Skittles, definitely! M&M's just aren't… sweet enough.' She leans ever-so-slightly closer to Gabriel so that she can almost whisper in his ear. 'If you know what I mean.'

The archangel will admit only to himself that he has absolutely no idea _what_ she means, but he smiles and waggles his eyebrows anyway and the young barista goes happily off to serve another customer. 'See!' he announced to his Father. 'Majority rules; Skittles are better than M&M's.'

God "hmm"s in a way that suggests he doesn't quite agree (or, possibly, that he thinks the archangel is being unnecessarily childish) and he's studying Gabriel carefully for signs of cheating (and the slightly-squinted eyes and head tilt are eerily reminiscent of a certain blue-eyed, trench coat wearing younger brother of Gabriel's). 'Do your brothers and sisters enjoy these sweet things as much as you?' he asks.

'Nah,' Gabriel reaches for the Skittle packet, but finds it empty (although he's sure he didn't eat the last of them…). 'It kind of comes with the job description.'

'And how is the "job" going?' His Father asks. 'I hope you've been behaving yourself.'

Gabriel stamps down on the urge to roll his eyes – there is no doubt in his mind that his Father will not be impressed by the action and he doesn't really want to suffer through whatever unconventional retribution God would come up with (once a millennia is too often to be punished like a child, the archangel believes). 'The job is fine. And, yes, I've been behaving myself.'

God's eyebrow twitches ever-so-slightly higher. 'So, the self-initiated witness protection is still… protective?'at

The archangel grins. 'Well, I haven't been dragged back to the pearly castle in the clouds yet, so I'd say my new identity is still going strong.'

God frowns. 'Gabriel…'

The archangel internally winces at the tone.

'You should not be so blatantly disrespectful towards Heaven. It is not a "pearly castle in the clouds"; it is your _home_.'

This time, Gabriel doesn't resist the eye roll. 'Sure, Da, I'll remember that particular piece of insightful advice for when I return to the floating castle - which is probably going to happen about the time that you stop hiding from the Holy Posse and reclaim the crown to rule the sky!' The sarcastic response is exactly the kind of thing that will get him sent to the angelic corner for a decade or six, but the words have already tumbled out and he can't stop them now. 'Have you set a date for that, by the way? It's something I'll be sure to mark on my calendar; "God returns to the pearly castle in the clouds and Michael finally stops being such an overbearing, controlling dick!" Perhaps we should even let Luci out of his kennel for the occasion.'

It seems like there is complete silence in the café, but in reality it is only their table. Gabriel bites his lip against the apologies that immediately threaten to come out; it may have come out more harshly than he intended, but the archangel meant every word he said and he is not going to apologise for that.

God isn't looking at him, which is somehow worse than the smoldering glare that would have made him cower in his seat, or the parental disproval that would have made him squirm, or the amused disbelief that would have made him feel indignant and ridiculed. Gabriel opens his mouth to say something – _anything_ – but his tongue can form no words. And then the chance is gone because God vanishes and Gabriel is left alone at the small corner table by the window.

The archangel drops his head onto his folded arms. 'Same time next week, then?'

The question hangs, unanswered, in the air, and Gabriel allows himself a moment to indulge in the guilt that is crawling all over his skin. After a minute or two, though, he shakes it off and stands. He meant what he said, and he's not going to wallow in self-pity for that.

A barely noticeable breeze accompanies the soft sound of fluttering wings as Gabriel disappears.

Only the yellow mug, still so annoyingly cheerful and bright, remains on the table.

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**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review - I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter and I'd love to know what you want to see in the next chapter!**

**-TaCo**


	3. Dead in the Water

**_This chapter: The events of Dead in the Water are spoken of, and Gabriel makes sure to add in his own commentary when retelling the latest Winchester adventure. Gabriel finds out just how devious his Father can be, and the duo go globe hopping on the search for the perfect chocolate fudge sundae._**

When Gabriel finally walks through the front doors of the café (after almost fifteen minutes of indecisive pacing) his eyes are immediately drawn to the table in the corner. He already knows what he's going to see, but he hesitates all the same. His Father is waiting for him; legs crossed at the ankle, newspaper spread across his lap, one hand resting on the handle of the half-full mug on the table beside him.

_At least he's shown up,_ Gabriel thinks. God is a forgiving deity and nobody knows it better than his angels – particularly the ones who have a tendency to make mischief and cause mayhem (*cough* Gabriel *cough*), so it is really no surprise that he seems completely unconcerned and carefree when he glances up and smiles in Gabriel's direction. If only the archangel could feel as nonchalant and pleased to see his Father as his Father is to see him.

Gabriel knows he has hesitated by the door too long when one of the waiter's pauses to ask if he'd like to have a seat at one of the empty tables. He shakes his head (stubbornly ignoring the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck) and ducks his head as he walks quickly over to his Father's table.

'Gabriel! I thought you'd never join me.' His Father's tone is teasing, but his words only make the archangel feel worse.

'Good morning, Father,' Gabriel murmurs, unconsciously adopting the soft, formal tone he would use as a fledgling when he knew he was in trouble. 'I'm sorry to keep you waiting.'

God laughs. Actually _laughs_ at him. 'I can hardly remember the last time you sounded so morose, my angel. You look like a young pup who has been caught stealing scraps beneath the dinner table – cheer up, before your gloom casts us all into an abyss of despair!'

Gabriel's eyes widen (unaware that it only adds to the kicked-puppy look) and he is shocked into silence for several moments before he is able to recover the power of speech. 'Sorry, Father,' he mutters.

His Father smiles gently and his bright, green eyes twinkle beneath his bushy eyebrows. 'You have apologised to me more in the last two minutes than you have in the last decade, Gabriel, should I be concerned?' His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the archangel. 'You haven't broken something, have you? Because the last time you broke something you unintentionally created a famous tourist attraction and by the time I found out what you'd done it was too late to repair the damage.'

Gabriel cannot help the irritation that wells up at the reminder of that particular memory. 'For the last time, Da; the leaning tower of Pisa was _not_ my fault!'

One of God's eyebrows lifts towards his hairline. 'Then whose fault was it? Because I seem to remember a very apologetic young angel who was insistent that "he didn't mean to" and multiple witnesses claiming that they saw _you_, and no one else, break the tower.'

The archangel frowns and leans forward, as though sharing a long-kept secret with his Father. 'That's because Michael bribed them.'

Amusement and skepticism battle for control on God's face as he processes what his angel has just said. 'You're telling me that Michael – my eldest archangel, your older brother, the responsible one, the goody-two-shoes angel, the one who always stops you from wreaking havoc in heaven and on Earth – broke the tower of Pisa, bullied you into taking the blame and bribed several of the younger angels so that they would back him up?' He pauses. 'You're joking, right?'

Gabriel huffs. 'Fine, then. Don't believe me.' He slumps back in his chair and crosses his arms across his chest, looking every inch the petulant child who has been denied the final lollipop.

God rolls his eyes. 'Do not be so childish, Gabriel.'

The crease between Gabriel's eyes deepens with his scowl and he obstinately turns his head away, choosing to look out the window at the quiet street instead of at his Father. He does not reply and God sighs.

'How are the brother's, then? I assume you've been watching them this week?'

Gabriel shrugs. 'They have not changed much since last week. Tweedledee is still running on caffeine and Tweedledum is still chasing everything in a skirt.'

'Running on caffeine?' God asks. 'Do you mean that he has been drinking too many caffeinated beverages?'

The archangel shakes his head, his eyes idly tracking a young child's path along the street outside. 'That's one way of putting it. I mean that he is still having nightmares about his girlfriend's death and, because he's a muttonhead, he has decided to solve the problem by dosing up on coffee instead of sleeping. At this point, his bloodstream is probably more caffeine than blood!'

His Father frowns. 'I do not believe that is possible. I created humans and I am sure that I designed their bodies so that other substances could not replace the blood in their bloodstreams…'

'It's a figure of speak, Da.' The archangel is amazed that his exasperation doesn't bleed into his voice. 'You've been living among humans for several centuries now; I would have thought you'd have picked up figurative language at least.'

'Human interaction is not something I often indulge in, Gabriel; there is too great a risk that someone may recognize me for who I truly am. You should know that as well as I.'

The archangel snorts. 'Unlike you, Da, I don't hide away in fear.'

'Hiding away in fear? Is that what you think I do, my angel?' God's voice is a monotone and his face is carefully blank.

Gabriel uses the excuse of procuring a caramel latte and sipping from the sweet, fragrant coffee to think over the best response. Last week's disaster had been his fault; he knows that, and he is not keen to repeat the scene with another ill choice of words. 'I think you do whatever it is you do because you believe it is the right thing to do.'

Evasive, but true.

His Father rolls his eyes. 'Everything I do is because I believe it is right, Gabriel.'

'Including your "big plan" for the Winchester? It is taught that you are just and fair, yet you will not let two brothers from Kansas choose their own destiny. I hardly think that is just or fair.'

'At least you think for yourself.'

It's Gabriel's turn to roll his eyes. 'The only reason the Holy Posse has no concept of free will is because you programmed them not to.'

God's smile is bland. 'Have you always been this opinionated? Or is it a byproduct of spending so much time among humans?'

'I've always had a view – you're only just noticing it.' Gabriel fixed his Father with a piercing gaze. 'But you're avoiding my point. Can you really say that it is just and fair to take away Tweedledee and Tweedledum's life choices?'

'Is it really just and fair to call Sam and Dean, Tweedledee and Tweedledum?' God returns.

Gabriel huffs. 'Now you're the one being childish, Father. Is it so difficult to just answer my question?'

God relents. 'I think you're talking to the wrong person, Gabriel. I'm not longer "the man upstairs", remember? Perhaps you could meet up with Michael and discuss the matter with him?'

It takes Gabriel a moment to recover from the shock of his Father's sassy comment, but when he does the biting reply is tumbling from his mouth before he can filter it. 'Why don't you join us? You could finally confront your eldest, "goody-two-shoes" angel about his role in the leaning tower of Pisa incident.'

God chuckles and brings his hands together in two slow claps. 'Well done, my angel. It is nice to see you have not lost your spunk in the week since I last saw you.'

Gabriel blinks at the man across the table. 'Who are you and what have you done with my Father?'

God's chuckles turn into laughter. 'I thought you would be more familiar with my tests after all these millennia, my angel.' His eyes twinkle with mirth. 'It would seem I was wrong.'

'That was a test?'

'Yes.'

'You were testing me?'

'Yes.'

The archangel takes a moment to process it. 'Why were you testing me?'

God lifts one shoulder in a shrug and grasps his almost empty mug with the other hand. 'They say that curiousity killed the cat – that's a figure of speech, is it not?' His lips twitch into a smile. 'I was curious.'

The archangel scrubs a hand over his face. 'But curious about _what?_'

'Whether you would regret your words from last week and learn to think before you speak, or whether your mouth would detach itself from your brain once again.'

'So, all of this…' Gabriel gestures vaguely with his hand. 'Was an elaborate trick? Just so you could see if I have foot-in-mouth syndrome?'

'Essentially, yes.'

Gabriel drops his head onto his folded arms. 'I can't believe it… So you weren't even mad when I insulted the pearly white castle in the sky, were you? You were just playing me.'

'Like a fiddle!' His Father's cheery answer is almost too much for the embarrassed archangel.

Gabriel makes a conscious effort to regain some of his dignity by straightening in his seat and resorting to the age-old remedy of changing the subject. 'Have I mentioned Dean's latest self-discovery?'

Taking pity on his angle, God allows the change in topic. 'No, I don't believe you have.' He leans back in his chair and motions towards Gabriel. 'Do enlighten me.'

'Tweedledum has recently discovered that, what were his words exactly? Oh yes; "kids are the best".'

God's expression turns thoughtful. 'And was Dean trying to impress a woman with this comment? Or was it a genuinely heartfelt declaration?'

'It was an attempt at impressing a woman, of course - one that failed miserably. I believe the young woman told him she pitied his poor sense of direction and inability to come up with a decent pickup line!' Gabriel laughs. 'It's not the first time I've seen Dean Winchester get turned down, but it is my personal favourite!'

God chuckles. 'And where did this extraordinary event take place? Are the boys still on the trail of their elusive father?'

'Not quite.' The archangel takes another sip of his latte. 'Daddy Winchester has been proving difficult to catch and his pups had nothing but loose ends when they took their temporary hiatus from the search and visited the delightful town of Lake Manitoc.'

God copies his angle's movements of raising his coffee mug to his lips. He tips the cup up but none of the so-called liquid energy comes out and he is surprised to see that, at some point during the conversation, he has finished his drink. He sighs and places the mug back on the table.

'It really is a lovely little town,' Gabriel continues. 'Not really my scene though – too much nice, not enough need for mayhem, you know? But there is this one diner that serves the most amazing chocolate fudge sundaes. Mmm, I can practically taste it now.' He closes his eyes in ecstasy at the memory and it is only the snapping of fingers near his face that snaps him out of his bliss-induced daze.

'You were saying?' God prompts. 'And not about the sundaes.'

'Right.' Gabriel's eyes wander to the café menu of their own free will as he finds himself wondering if chocolate fudge sundaes are served. 'There was a ghost in the lake. People were dying. The local law enforcement was hopeless and kept getting in the way.' He waves his hand to signal the waitress. 'You know the type, Da.'

A bubbly blonde practically skips over to their table. 'What can I do for you, sirs?'

The archangel takes a moment to check her out, but decides that she's too happy and bouncy for his liking. 'Do you have chocolate fudge sundaes?' he asks.

'I'm sorry, honey, we only sell fresh fruit sundaes,' the blonde almost sings. 'Can I get you one of those instead?'

Gabriel sighs. 'No. Could you find out how much our bill is, though? We're ready to leave.'

After the waitress has left, God raises an eyebrow at his archangel. 'I thought you wanted a sundae.'

'I do. So we're leaving here and finding a place that sells decent chocolate fudge sundaes.'

'Hmm.'

The archangel narrows his eyes at his Father. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Nothing.' God raises his hands in a show of surrender. 'I merely find your penchant for sweet foods… interesting.'

'As opposed to your obsession with black, unsweetened coffee?'

'I would not say I have an obsession-' God begins, only to be cut off by the arrival of the vivacious barista.

'Your total comes to $10.50!' she chirps.

There is a brief stare down between God and Gabriel over who is going to pay before God sighs and shoves his hand into his pocket to find the money. The waitress beams when he hands over the money, saying an overly-enthusiastic 'have a nice day!' before moving onto the next table. The two deities are left sitting in a mild state of shock at the sheer exuberance possessed by a single person.

Gabriel dispels the shock with a quick shake of his head and rises from the table. 'Come on Da, there's not time to waste – my chocolate fudge sundae is calling to me!'

God chuckles as he follows his angle out of the small café.

'Oh, and Da?' Gabriel pauses at the door. 'Next time, I'm choosing the coffee shop we meet at.'

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They'd hop, skipped and jumped their way through seven cities, across three oceans (and two seas) and visited five countries before Gabriel found somewhere that sold chocolate fudge sundaes that were up to his standard. Along the way, they'd manage to fall back onto the topic of the Winchesters and their latest hunt.

'…so, really, the whole thing would have been so much simpler if the kid had just _spoken_ to begin with.' Gabriel was saying. 'I mean, I almost missed a date I had with this really amazing woman – she's a gymnast, you know? – because I had to stick around long enough to see if Tweedledum and Tweedledee would actually figure it out. I was prepared to jump start things a little bit, but you told me to be a silent, invisible observer only, so…'

God nods and agrees in all the right places, but he's more focused on the ice-cream that's dripping down the edge of his cone than what his angel is saying. There is something oddly fascinating about the way the melting ice-cream trickles down the side of the waffle cone, creating a myriad of interwoven paths before it is soaked up by the serviette that is wrapped around the cone's base, he muses. It is a somewhat childish thought, not one that the all-powerful creator would often (or ever, until now) be found indulging in.

'…up until the point that he launched himself off the dock after his brother, I was under the impression that Tweedledee was the smarter one. Although, the famous Winchester save-everyone-we-possibly-can-no-matter-what-has-to-be-done complex tends to outshine all their other traits. Except the stubbornness, of course, they all have _that_ particular characteristic in spades…'

God briefly considered interrupting the archangel's ramblings, but Gabriel seemed content to fill the silence with his inane retelling and commentary of the latest saga in the Winchester chronicles. He turns his gaze to the setting sun and the golden light that is reflected on the rippling water of the harbour along which they walk.

'…it was actually kind of sweet, I'll admit – but don't you dare tell anyone I said that, Da, or I swear I'll tell Michael and his Holy Posse where to find you!'

The archangel's threat pulls God's attention back to the one-sided conversation. He opens his mouth to ask what it is, exactly, that he isn't supposed to be telling anyone, but Gabriel has already moved on, so he just shrugs to himself and dismisses it from his mind. After all, if his angel only mentioned it briefly, it couldn't be that important…

'…wouldn't you agree, Da?'

God nods absently. 'Yes, of course.'

He can see Gabriel smirking at him in the corner of his eyes. 'Really?'

God isn't sure what the archangel is playing at, but he decides that heading of any mischief before it can really begin will, ultimately, be safer for everyone. 'Yes, Gabriel, I have already told you that I agree. I know you are not deaf, so there is no need for you to question my answer, and there is no need for me to repeat myself.'

'Alright, Da,' Gabriel says, and it seems that his tone is far too casual. 'So… should I spread the word?'

God narrows his eyes at his angel. 'What word?'

Gabriel grins. 'That you think the world would be a happier place if elephants were purple and tigers had blue stripes.'

The absurdity of the remark pulls God up short and it is only his angel's quick reflexes that stop him from hitting the ground when he stumbles. '_What!?'_

Gabriel laughs. 'You weren't listening to a thing I said, were you?'

'Of course I was!' God protests; there is no way he is going to give in to his angel so easily. 'You were telling me about the brothers' hunt in Lake Manitoc. You said that it would have been easier if the kid had just spoken and that you almost missed a date because of it.'

'Uh-huh.'

'Then you said that the Winchester's are famous for their stubbornness and that Sam is supposed to be the smart one, but that the Winchester hero-complex causes him to follow his brother into foolish situation while trying to save as many people as possible.'

'Close enough.'

'And you finished by threatening that you'd tell Michael and the other angel's where I am.' God frowns. 'What was that all about?'

Gabriel rolls his eyes. 'So, basically, you missed more than half of what I said.'

God's smile is somewhat sheepish. 'Consider it retribution for all the times you ignored the things I told you when you were a fledgling.'

'I think you've got the wrong angle, Da. I always listened to what you told me.'

God raises an eyebrow. 'Like the time I told you not to follow your brother's when they visited Earth, and you did it anyway?'

The archangel shrugs as he turns to stare out over the dark water. 'Listening isn't the same as obeying. I may not have always acted on your directives or followed your orders, but I always listened to you.'

God sighs, shaking his head ruefully. 'Why did I have to create such difficult angels?'

'Just talent, I guess.' Gabriel directs a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

God cannot help but smile in return. He would not admit to having favourites, in fact, he'd deny it outright, but there is something about his youngest archangel that makes him easy and fun to be around. God knows that many of the other angel's find Gabriel's attitude to be annoy or irritating much of the time, but when he is in the presence of his most mischievous angel God is able to relax in a way that usually can't.

Maybe it is because Gabriel is his youngest. Maybe it is because Gabriel is always capable of lightening the mood and brightening any room he walks into. Maybe it is because he feels like he can relate more closely to Gabriel than his other angels. Maybe it is because he has spent more time with the youngest archangel.

Deep down, though, God is aware that the true reason is that he knows Gabriel doesn't expect him to be _God_, he only expects him to be a father.

* * *

**AN: Hey guys, I'm am so sorry that this chapter has taken me so long to update, but it is quite a bit longer than the others to make up for making y'all wait so long! I'm not sure how I feel about his chapter so feedback would be much appreciated! I'm curious, how many people see Gabriel as the youngest of the archangels?**

**Is there any specific scenes or comments or whatever from the next episode that you want mentioned next chapter? If so, just leave it in a review and I'll be sure to add it in!**

**-TaCo**


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